Overheard in Hallway
"Did you ask her?" he asks her,
juggling books by the lockers
between writing and science.
"No," she tells him, eyes down,
watching his feet dance on the floor,
a nervous two-step.
"I don't know," she responds,
growing quiet as she notices me
listening, but not, a presence
mostly ignored in the passing of
"She may not, you know," she whispers,
and his body sags a bit,
as if receiving news from front.
She looks up, sympathetically,
a protective shield surrounding
the both of them.
"I know," he says, more to himself
than to her, and certainly not to me,
although I hear it just the same,
just as the bell rings and the hallways
--Kevin Hodgson, for GloPoWriMo 2017